Wishing Your Life Away

Getting there. Inching forward. Every day. But we wish our days away when we wish for the workweek to end. When we wish to get by that obstacle that stands in the way of something more relaxing, something more of what we want to do. Sort of like going through a time machine that ages us, blanking out, thinking of nothing as we dredge through the rough, terrible day to get to the nectar, the good stuff. Is it worth it? Losing your life just to get to a point you think is going to be something more than it possibly will be?   Hey, that something can be great. I don't know. But most of the time it isn't what you thought it to be. Sometimes, like with the holidays, the days leading up to them are the most exciting. Think about that.   You’re mind says, maybe I’ll feel better then. You think about that moment from the point of view of someone who has no ailments, no worries. It’s then you’ll do that thing, or then when things will come together. Meanwhile you’re taking pressure off

Will We Know What Happened?

I wrote something yesterday because I had some extra gas in the tank. I should have taken that and kept roaring, but progress comes incrementally. That can be a saying. But not really. Because progress can come in great leaps and bounds, as well. Depends. Relative. Yada yada. We move on.   I was thinking about the writing "practice" I've been working on and thought it was funny that I'd be figuring this out (if you can call it that) when AI bots are coming out, when artificial intelligence will be able to write blog posts for you, or stories.   But they ain't got no soul. The AI bots I mean. Or do they? Sentient? Perhaps. Or you can use the sludge they produce and edit it for a post or story. Ugh. Still feels skeezy. Or skeevy. Or both. Either word will work. But I think until they get it perfected one will be able to tell if a real person wrote something or not. Or maybe they won't. Maybe everything will encroach us and take over our mind and as we sit there

Writer's Like the Sound of Keystrokes

Okay. Let's put this to the test. More and more, each day, I'm going to try this when I least think it will work and see what takes shape. I think it will work--to some degree at least. This is what I plan to do:   When you have no wish to write, when you have nothing in your head, when you look at the Word icon, folder, blank screen, anything that pertains to writing. It could be your notepad, a pen/pencil. Blood on the wall. Okay. Don't go too far. Well, you need blood. So, if you're writing a long story and feel faint, use that as your guide to slow it down. You need about 60% of your blood--so take it easy.   Anyway. Pick it up, whatever it is. And just start typing anything. I mean anything. Just like anything. See? Anything. And keep typing. And don't stop. If you mess up, retype the correct word, over and over and over until you get it right, or if you don't then just forget it and keep typing. Don't look back, just let ideas come out, thoughts. Even

Practice What I Preach

Hard to make something up when you can't think about anything. Or maybe I don't want to. You me I. What is it? Am I trying to be in general, or is this talking to myself? Am I listening? If I was listening, I'd probably be a success by now. Unless what I'm saying is all garbage. Is what anyone says worth anything? Who knows? To the right person perhaps it is. I mean, think about it. Even words coming from those who have made it don't do anything for most people. You must have that extra thing that they don't disclose. Or have the drive they had when they used their technique. Maybe some have that at the time they put those techniques to the test. Does this even make sense? To some it may. Eh, who cares. Too much thinking on this. Just do it. Don't try to mimic. Just do what you're going to do. Or don't. That's up to you. But give it a try, at least. What do you have to lose? Unless you gave up everything on a whim and are giving yourself like si

Move Forward

Don't know if anything will come out of this session. I've just missed a Saturday, but I'm not worried too much about the weekends. As things pick up, I may have a fire under me to post more. I'm just not feeling creative lately. Only puffs of smoke coming from an engine that hasn't been used in quite a while. I'll have to change the oil and put some gas in there and see what happens. Of course, as is usually the case, I have ideas and want to put them down but make the mistake of not sitting down and putting them into my phone or laptop. So I lose those ideas. Or I remember the ideas but lose the momentum behind the thought of them when they took place. I even had a motivating picture I wanted to take to use for a post, but I didn't do it. This is something I need to correct on my path to creating again. And I'm not just creating to make more content, money, or other reasons. I'm doing it because when I used to create it was fun, it was a release, a


Finally made it. The weather is cloudy, yet warm. I'm tired but I have extra coffee. I had some things to say walking in this morning, but of course, they are all forgotten now. It's okay though. If I remember them later I will see if I write them down.   I did open a very old story I'd created back in 2017 (or saved, one or the other). I wanted to see how bad it was. Haha. But it wasn't half bad. There were a lot of parts that were unclear, but that could be updated. And I'm looking through the new lens of no nonsense if-it's-bad-it's-bad spectacles. I originally wanted to see if there were any old ideas I could glean. What a word, huh. I meant spectacles, not glean.   So maybe I'll tinker with that later. As I ring the bell of summer, starting the weekend with glitter and glam. That's a sham. Hmm. Just wanted to rhyme a bit.   I did take a picture coming in, so I'll throw it up at the top. A local restaurant/bar place.   Remember, if you're


Today. Thursday. What to write what to write. Well. What we think about when we're alone. When the lights are out, or the sun goes down. Sounds like a song. But these moments are, or could be, the scariest moments because we are left alone with ourselves. We see the rest of our life splayed out before us, but we can't see it clear. It's there. Blurry perhaps. The moments and events are just at the tip of our tongue, like a lost name or word we're thinking of but can't quite get it out. It looks like a roadmap. Then it disappears. Then it comes back. It's there, like your thoughts, like your memories, just out in front of you. And there is a feeling. Like a knowing. Some can see this clearer, perhaps. And some don't see it at all. But they feel it. It's there. And they know something is there. Maybe they don't accept it or ignore it. Because acknowledging it can be maddening. As is creating things.   Maddening.   To do this or not. If you don't so